


albatross

by feeltripping



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, F/F, Marking, Power Bottom Clarke Griffin, Praise Kink, Strap-Ons, Top Lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:37:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8026399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeltripping/pseuds/feeltripping
Summary: Clexa smut, filled prompt for:top Lexa marking Clarke and backing her away from orgasm & Lexa with a strap on and inside Clarke but Clarke won't let her move.





	albatross

Clarke drops her bag at the door, stretching, and kicks off her shoes, letting them bounce off the wall and stay where they fall. “Lexa?” She pads into the kitchen and hops onto the counter, plucking a slice of bellpepper off the chopping board and eating it, craning her head around. “Babe?” Silence answers her and she frowns. She’s starting to slide off onto her feet when Lexa appears at the mouth of the hallway, looking faintly flushed. 

“Clarke,” she greets, and ambles forward for a kiss. 

Clarke narrows her eyes. “And what were you doing in the bedroom, all sneaky and quiet?”

“Changing,” Lexa says easily, plucking lightly at her sweats and faded shirt. 

“That’s my shirt.”

Lexa shrugs, reaching across Clarke’s body for a pan and flipping the stove on. “You like it better on me.” She’s got Clarke there, so Clarke leans her head against the high cabinets and watches Lexa cook, humming around the kitchen to throw a stirfry together, mixing something to create a sauce that smells sweet and tangy. 

“Witch,” Clarke accuses, when Lexa mops a little up on her finger and slips it between Clarke’s lips. “Sauce wizard.”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Yes, of course.” Clarke nips at her finger, punishing, and Lexa crowds between her legs to kiss her breathless. “Don’t start that,” Lexa murmurs against her lips. “Not until after. Dinner will burn.”

Clarke bites Lexa’s lip and tugs. “Turn the stove off. Dinner can wait.” Lexa hesitates, clearly tempted, and Clarke wraps her legs around, pressing on the small of Lexa’s back. Lexa slides flush against her, and Clarke’s eyes go wide. “Holy fuck,” she breathes, fervent. “Turn the goddamn stove off Lexa, or the apartment is going to burn.”

“For our neighbors,” Lexa mutters, but Clarke hears the stove click off, the fan go quiet. Lexa kisses her again, hungry and edged with teeth. She lifts Clarke, Clarke rising up to press as close as she can, Lexa tipped up to look at her as she makes her way down the hall, pausing to press Clarke into the walls and bite at her throat, growling. Clarke is panting by the time Lexa tosses her onto the bed, and she presses up on her shoulders, arching, while she kicks her pants and underwear off, scrabbling and desperate. Lexa is stripping as well, standing and watching her with flat glittering eyes, predatory, and Clarke moans when she sits up to wrench off her shirt, cupping her own breast and making a needy noise. Lexa’s body lands on hers a second later, jarring. She bites at Clarke’s nipple, and Clarke’s yelp goes up in a squeak; she pushes herself against Lexa’s mouth. 

“Shit,” she mutters, and moans again, Lexa nipping across her chest, the strap on poking into her belly. “Lexa,” she breathes, high pitched and needy, and tries to wrap her legs around Lexa’s waist. Lexa pushes her legs down and Clarke blinks, confused. 

Lexa presses her limbs flat against the mattress, then reaches under, spreading Clarke’s legs wide. Clarke shivers, and Lexa places her palms down, straight out at her sides. Lexa kisses her, softer, playful and mischievous and wanting. “You’re beautiful,” Lexa murmurs. “Okay?”

Clarke shivers again. “Yeah,” she grinds out, her voice drenched and broken, and Lexa grins against her jaw. 

“Don’t move,” Lexa warns, and Clarke twists her fingers in the sheets. 

Lexa starts soft. She licks at the inside of Clarke’s elbows, suckles the flesh into her mouth against her teeth for long long seconds before releasing, breathing big, and repeating, until slowly, so slowly, a bruise blooms, red and angry and already starting to darken in little flecks, purple and green and black. Lexa makes a pleased noise, and bites harder at the thin pale skin on the underside of Clarke’s bicep, moving a little quicker up her arm to her shoulder, and then to her throat, pausing every inch to suck hard angry marks into Clarke’s body. “Lexa,” Clarke pleads, but she keeps her fingers where they are. 

“Shh,” Lexa says, pulling back to lick over Clarke’s mouth teasingly, her tongue dipping in only for a second before she goes to work on the other side of Clarke’s neck, low enough she’ll be able to hide the bruises with a high collared shirt. She slows down again, nipping before setting her teeth hard, and soon Clarke’s arms are matching, marked from the hollow of her throat down to her elbow and then even further. She finishes with a satisfied noise, at the inside of Clarke’s left wrist. Clarke arches, eager, but Lexa pushes her flat, palms on her chest. “You look so good,” Lexa murmurs, possessive. “So pretty, all marked up.” She rocks her hips against Clarke’s, the toy dragging up Clarke’s belly. “Mine.”

“Fuck,” Clarke pants, her mouth stretched open and sucking in air. “Jesus, Lexa, please--” her voice breaks on the word and Lexa smiles, dark edged. 

“You can take a little more,” she says, “I know you can.” Clarke whines, but Lexa kisses her nose, once, before sinking her teeth into the side of Clarke’s breast. Clarke shouts, wordless and arching, writhing, and Lexa slams her back down with a twist of her hips. She bites again, just below, and Clarke can’t do anything except moan and gasp and plead in tiny twitches of her fingers and little quivers in her belly as Lexa drags her teeth, inch by inch, down her body from below her armpit to the top of her hipbones, interspersed with Lexa’s wet filthy noises and pleased sighs when she switches sides. “Symmetric,” she says, and Clarke doesn’t know how long it’s been, trapped in a time bubble where all she can feel is Lexa’s bites and lap of her tongue as she soothes each mark. Lexa kisses her, just above her heart, and Clarke whimpers. 

“More?” Lexa asks, hesitating, and Clarke shakes her head. 

“Please, please--”

“Okay,” Lexa murmurs, soothing. “I’ve got you.” She slides down between Clarke’s trembling thighs and kisses the inside of Clarke’s knee. “You’ve been so good.” She licks straight up into her, no warning, and Clarke can’t help the howl that wrenches out of her chest and the automatic muscle spasm, trying to both climb up the bed in escape and grind down onto Lexa’s tongue. Lexa’s hands land on her hips, keeping her still. “I’ve got you,” she says again, and Clarke goes limp, surrendering, while Lexa kisses her cunt, open mouthed and sloppy, and then eats her out with single minded determination. Clarke tenses, her thighs drawing shut even though she fights to keep them where Lexa put them, and Lexa coos against her skin, pulling back. 

“No,” Clarke chokes out, her heels on Lexa’s spine, trying to pull her back. 

“A break,” Lexa murmurs, and just lays her head on Clarke’s thigh and pets her, over her ribs and gentle touches across her breasts and Clarke heaves air, a shivery mess. Lexa waits a few long minutes, soft skimming caresses. “Okay?”

Clarke makes her legs part again. “Yeah,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

Lexa is watching her with soft eyes. “Sure?” Clarke nods, jerky, not trusting her voice, and spreads her legs as wide as she can. 

“Please.”

Lexa smiles, hungry. “Good.” Clarke braces herself, but instead of Lexa’s tongue she feels her teeth again, her lips, sucking mouthfuls of Clarke’s thigh and biting down. 

Clarke moans, long and low. “Tease,” she manages, after three more love bites. Lexa hums against her, not denying it, and switches to her other thigh. When both legs are dark from hip to inner knee she noses back up to breathe deep against Clarke’s center, pleased. Clarke makes a broken noise, pushing her hips up as much as she can. 

“So good,” Lexa murmurs. “So beautiful.” She tickles a nail against the back of Clarke’s knee, down to her calf and finishing at her ankle. “Should I finish what I started?”

Clarke shakes her head, desperate and whiny and pleading, “No, Lexa, I can’t, I can’t--”

“Okay,” Lexa says, and kisses her belly, closed mouth and chaste. “I’ve got you.” She closes her lips around Clarke’s clit and sucks, and Clarke--she thinks she might scream, or black out a little, and when she comes back to herself she almost cries because Lexa’s mouth is still on her, slow steady pressure, but she hasn’t come yet and it hurts. A few small tears escape her eyes, dripping, and she makes a sounds she doesn’t recognize, can’t categorize. She babbles nonsense, forgetting herself, her hands clenched into clawed fists in Lexa’s hair, and Lexa makes an encouraging noise that thrums through her, vibrating. 

“Please,” she says, finding her words at last, “please, Lex--I can’t again, please, baby--”

“I won’t,” Lexa murmurs, and slips two fingers into her, crooked just right, “it’s okay, Clarke. Come for me.” Clarke arches up, on command, and slams back down on the mattress, relief rocketing through her as her body clenches in long sweet waves, pleasure edged with pain; perfect.

 

She shivers, violent, tiny tremors rocking through her, and Lexa cups a protective possessive hand over her cunt, gentle pressure from her palm. “Too much?” Lexa asks, worried, after almost five minutes, and Clarke’s still shaky but she smiles, drowsy, and pulls Lexa up into a kiss.

“S’good,” she mumbles against Lexa’s lips, and Lexa sighs, relieved. 

“You’re gonna bruise so pretty,” she hums, unbearably smug, and Clarke curls her fingers around the strap on, fisting lazily. Lexa stares down at her hand, transfixed. 

“Get in me,” Clarke orders, and when Lexa hesitates she growls, her voice still rasping but with steel, and Lexa goes slow but it still makes little silver lights spark at the edges of Clarke’s vision, so sensitive, and she makes a noise when Lexa’s halfway in, Lexa’s hips stilling while she breathes, until she nods and Lexa bottoms out with a soft, shocked noise. 

“You’re perfect,” Lexa says, wide eyed. “I love you.” She braces herself, and moves to thrust, but Clarke grabs her by the hips.

“Stop.”

Lexa freezes. She blinks. “Too much?” she asks, concerned. “I can--”

“Don’t move.” Clarke leans up and licks the curve of Lexa’s ear. “Your turn, baby.” When she leans back she takes Lexa with her, until Lexa’s leaned over her, centimeters from her lips, her forearms flexed as she holds herself up from the mattress, her thighs strong and defined as she keeps herself perfectly still.

“Clarke,” she breathes. 

“No talking.” Clarke taps a finger against Lexa’s lips. “No moving. Look down.” She rolls her body, slow, rippling, and Lexa swallows. “See all those little bruises you gave me, those big dark marks. Gonna be black and blue for days, purple and green and yellow when they start to fade. I think I’ll miss them.”

Lexa makes a choking noise. Her eyes shut until Clarke taps her nose. 

“Miss going to work and feeling them every time I take a step, reach for something, shift in my chair.” Clarke slips her hands down her own body, sighing soft, and worms a finger under the harness to find Lexa’s clit. The other grabs a handful of Lexa’s ass, squeezing. “Miss them while I miss you.”

“Clarke.” Lexa is trembling now, sweat dripping. 

“I always miss you when we’re apart,” Clarke admits, soft. “Isn’t that just the grossest thing?” It startles a giggle out of them both, bodies shaking, and Lexa goes a little lower, her forehead resting on Clarke’s shoulder. 

“Please.”

Clarke clicks her tongue. “You weren’t so nice to me when I was pleading.” She flicks at Lexa’s nipple at the same time she presses hard on Lexa’s clit and Lexa jolts, one arm collapsing; she falls into Clarke’s chest. “Back up,” Clarke says, sharp, and Lexa moans while she struggles to prop herself up again, failing twice before she manages it. 

“Sorry,” Lexa says, punch drunk and shaky, dreamy. She licks Clarke’s mouth again. 

“Just listen,” Clarke orders, soft as silk rope. “Listen to me tell you how good you played my body, how perfect.” Lexa shudders, violent. “How good your dick feels in me right now, but never as good as your fingers or your tongue, fuck--your mouth. Anyone ever tell you that you got real pretty lips, baby?”

Clarke surges up, once--Lexa yelps, her head thrown back, but doesn’t otherwise move, frozen. “Good girl,” Clarke says, pleased. “Anyone ever tell you about your fingers? They’d be wasted on a straight girl.”

Lexa barks out a short shout of laughter and Clarke grins in response. “They would. Good thing you’re gay. Good thing you’re mine.”

“Yours,” Lexa agrees, mumbling. She’s quivering noticeably now, and Clarke speeds up, her finger finding its way back to Lexa’s clit. 

“How long did you spend making me feel good? Felt like hours, the best torture. I’ll be sore for days. You wanna spread me out again tomorrow, Lex? Rub my muscles and admire your marks? Press on them until I beg you to touch me where I want you, promise I’m yours?”

Lexa’s mouth stretches open, silent. She goes suddenly still.

“I am,” Clarke promises, and drags her nails down Lexa's back, sudden and sharp enough Lexa will have red lines for days, “yours.” Lexa comes, completely motionless, her eyes rolled back in her head, still thrust deep into Clarke, and when Clarke gently nudges her wrist she collapses in a heap, messy and shaking, and Clarke kisses her temple until Lexa groans and lifts her head. 

“Okay?” she mumbles, floaty from her orgasm.

“Perfect,” Clarke assures her. “Sleep now, clean up later?”

Lexa’s nose wrinkles, but she’s wiped, so Clarke knows she’ll agree. She pokes Lexa’s calf with her toe and starts to pull away. Lexa protests, pulling her close. “Wait--let me-” she maneuvers them, turning Clarke onto her side, her hands guiding Clarke’s leg, twisting. She slips out only for a second before sliding back in, until Clarke’s tucked against her, spooned, the strap on snugly inside her, and Lexa rocks her hips a few times, making pleased noises, before settling down.

“Geez,” Clarke mutters, but she shivers, pleased herself. Lexa kisses her once on the forehead, and they sleep, just like that, the sweat still slick on their bodies.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr @ feeltripping


End file.
